The Twelve Days of Christmas
by Sunnycanary
Summary: On the First day of Christmas my true love sent to me... [A series of drabbles about various pairings based on The Twelve Days of Christmas.]
1. The First Day of Christmas (USUK)

**Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays everyone! This is a series of drabbles based on ****_The Twelve Days of Christmas_****. I'll try to upload one every day, but I'll be away for a few days from the 1st. I'll upload everything when I come back, or if I find wifi somewhere. If you don't want to wait, I've scheduled for the uploads to be posted on the right days on my tumblr. The link's in my profile.**

**First pairing is USUK!**

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><p><em>On the First day of Christmas<em>

_My true love sent to me:_

_A snow globe full of bunnies_

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><p>"Come on! It's time to open the presents!" America practically ran to the other room, where a small pile of presents sat under the Christmas tree. "Come <em>on<em>! Hurry up!"

England was so _slow_ all the time. He just wanted to give him his present already and see his reaction. He _knew_ the older nation would like it!

…Hopefully.

England finally stumbled into the room, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "It's too early, you git." But his insult lacked its usual bite and America could tell he was trying to hide a smile.

"I just want to give you your present!" he whined. He grabbed a box wrapped in silver wrapping and thrust it toward the blond. "Here!"

England blinked slowly. "You… You got something for me?"

"Yeah, we're friends! And it's Christmas!"

The pale fingers that carefully slid under the tape and pulled open the box were _much_ too slow. America couldn't sit still, bouncing up and down as he glanced up and down between England's face and the present.

"Do you… Do you like it?" He hesitated. England hadn't said anything or shown any emotion yet, and that was worrying the American. Maybe he didn't like, maybe he thought it was childish and dumb, _oh God what if he hated it_…

He slowly looked up and America was surprised to see his green eyes shimmering with tears. Was… Was England _crying_?

Oh _God_. He had done it this time, he made England cry, he gave him the _worst present ever_. "I–I'm sorry, I should've gotten you a bett–" And then a cool finger was on his lips, effectively stopping his sentence in midway and were his lips… Tingling? His skin felt acute and overly sensitive where England's finger touched it, and when he moved it away, he felt an emptiness where it had been.

"You were talking too much," England explained when he saw America's eyes widen in surprise. "I love it. Th–thank you."

And then America couldn't hold it in anymore and _sprang_ at the Brit, wrapping his arms around him in a huge bear hug. It was kind of uncomfortable – he didn't exactly come in at the best angle, and England's arm was sticking into his ribs, and he nearly hit his head on the edge of the table – but it was okay because England was hugging him back.

The snow globe sat behind them, forgotten about, the mint-green bunnies inside frozen as the snow settled to the bottom of the glass.

Today was definitely making America's list of top ten Christmases.


	2. The Second Day of Christmas (Spamano)

**Here's the second part of this series! This time it's Spamano!**

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><p><em>On the Second day of Christmas<em>

_My true love sent to me:_

_Two tomatoes_

_And a snow globe full of bunnies_

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><p>"You're giving me fucking <em>tomatoes<em> for Christmas?!"

The Spaniard only nodded and smiled at him. No, he was smiling already – the grin just grew wider. Romano nearly dropped the basket of tomatoes.

"Who do you think I _am_?!"

"Just… Can you eat the tomatoes? Now?"

Romano snorted. _Seriously?_ But he had to admit, the tomatoes _were_ red and juicy-looking, and each was polished to a shine, and they were _huge_…

"Fine. B-but it's only because it'll taste better fresh!" He grabbed the one on the top and chomped down on it.

The juice exploded onto his tongue, spreading the sweet flavour around his mouth. The balance between sweet and sour was _just_ right, the flesh wasn't too soft and squelchy, the seeds weren't in the way.

It was a perfect tomato.

How did that idiotic Spaniard manage to grow this little red bundle of perfection?!

And he had brought a whole basket of them.

Romano was about to take another bite when he noticed something inside the tomato shining in the light. _What the…_ Some sort of metal was in the tomato. He pulled it out, nearly dropping it when he realised what it was.

_A ring?!_ He glanced up at Spain, who was grinning down at him nervously.

"_Mi querido_, I have loved you for thousands of years, and I'll love you for thousands more. You make me smile every da–"

"…Are you _proposing_ to me?"

Spain smiled sheepishly, bringing an arm up to rub at the back of his head. "Yeah, if you– if that's alright– I mean, if–"

He was talking too much. Yeah, that was the reason why Romano kissed the Spaniard, not because of the_ marriage proposal_ or anything…

"So," Spain smirked at him. "Is that a yes?"

Romano flushed a bright red. Now he was just _playing_ with him.

"Of course, bastard."

Later, he put the ring on, admiring how _right_ it looked there. Not that he was ever going to say that out loud.


	3. The Third Day of Christmas (GiriPan)

**GiriPan~**

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><p><em>On the Third day of Christmas<em>

_My true love sent to me:_

_Three cute cats_

_Two tomatoes_

_And a snow globe full of bunnies_

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><p>Japan knew he was in trouble when Greece showed up at his door holding a small bundle of fur and all he did was move aside to let him in. This was the third time this week, and Japan <em>really<em> should work on saying no to the Greek, or sooner or later, his house would be overflowing with cats.

Honestly, Japan was more of a dog person. He _did_ have a dog, after all (speaking of which, where _was_ Pochi?). But he had to admit, the stray cats Greece had been bringing in _were_ absolutely _adorable_, especially that small tabby one with the white paws…

Following Greece into the living room, he wondered when his life had become like this. Maybe it was when he agreed to start a relationship with him. Or maybe further back, when he had first met the other nation. Whenever it was, he was stuck with this cat-filled life for a while, and he couldn't say that he minded that much.

His boyfriend – Japan still felt a thrill when calling him that, even after the couple of months they had been together – was already pouring a bowl full of cat food for the kitten, murmuring softly to it as it scrambled towards the bowl. Its small tail waved happily as it crunched the food between its teeth.

Soft patters of rain landed on the roof as he sat next to Greece on the couch, watching the kitten meet the other cats. They sniffed each other, then seemed to decide that they didn't mind the other, proceeding to jump up onto the couch to snuggle with the nations. Japan could almost sense the lazy smile on Greece's face as he pulled Japan in closer, placing a soft kiss on his head.

Japan was in deep trouble.

But actually, he could get used to this. This cuddling on the couch surrounded by cats to the soft beat of the rain, the strong fingers gently sifting through his hair, the light kisses in between.

And that was how Japan found himself dozing off, next to the man he loved, almost swamped in warm, purring fluff. If the fingers stroking his scalp didn't send him to sleep, the rain's rhythmic dance on the roof definitely would have. Just before he closed his eyes for the last time, one of the cats stretched, its little paws pushing gently against Japan's side. The hand in his hair stilled, and he swore he had heard a faint snore from the Greek next to him.

Yes, he could definitely get used to this.


	4. The Fourth Day of Christmas (FrUK)

**Here's some FrUK!**

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><p><em>On the Fourth day of Christmas<em>

_My true love sent to me:_

_Four red roses_

_Three cute cats_

_Two tomatoes_

_And a snow globe full of bunnies_

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><p>England was sick of French things. He was sick of French food, French people, French cities, and most importantly, the nation France himself.<p>

It was Christmas, not bloody _Valentine's Day_. There was absolutely _no need_ for France to be giving out roses to everyone, literally – even though they were made out of paper and hot-glued together. He even had a _basket_ full of them, ready to hand out to strangers on the street if they passed anyone.

Not that anyone was outside, really, and England couldn't blame them. Snow was whipping around them as they walked to France's apartment and the only light was from the streetlights along the empty road.

And even though England had been accompanying him the _entire day_, France hadn't made any move to give him his own rose. Not that he _wanted_ one, but since they were dating and all, he thought maybe he should've gotten at least _something_.

They walked into the building in silence, both too worn out to bother talking. The elevator pinged when it stopped, doors opening with a swish, and they stopped in front of their door.

"Wait, I'm going over next door to give some roses to them." France suddenly broke the silence, just as England reached his hand out to open the door.

"Why?" He didn't mean for the question to sound so harsh and accusing, so he hurriedly explained himself. "You've been giving out roses all day. It's _Christmas_. Why're you giving out _roses_?"

Instead of answering the question, France smirked at him and raised an eyebrow. "What's wrong, _mon cher_? Are you jealous because you haven't gotten your own rose yet?"

"Of course not," England sputtered, cursing the blush creeping up from his neck. "I just–"

He was cut off by a pair of lips on his own that disappeared as fast as they had appeared. Damn that French idiot.

"Shh, _mon petit lapin_, you'll get your own gift soon enough." With a wink, France turned around and knocked on the neighbour's door before England could give him a response. He wished the elderly lady who opened the door a merry Christmas and a happy new year, and presented a paper rose to her with a flourish.

England smiled politely at the neighbour, hiding the impatience and frustration building up inside him. What did he mean by 'you'll get your own gift soon enough'? Was he about to be on the receiving end of hundreds of paper roses?

When France was _finally _finished, England practically dragged him into his apartment. The inside was exactly like it had been this morning after the Brit had cleaned it, with the exception of a huge bunch of roses on the coffee table.

"Are those…?" England gently picked up the roses, careful not to crease the paper wrapped around it _too_ badly.

"If you're asking whether they're for you, then yes." France looped his arms around England, resting his chin on his shoulder. "I give everyone else paper roses, but you, _mon cher_, you get hand-grown, hand-arranged, _real_ roses."

"Thank you." The words left his lips without him realising, and his previous annoyance immediately disappeared.

The grin on France's face was almost blinding, and he leaned forwards to bring his lips to the Brit's in a chaste kiss. After pulling away, he straightened up, heading towards the kitchen.

"What do you want to eat tonight, _mon cher_?"


	5. The Fifth Day of Christmas (PoLiet)

**PoLiet :3**

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><p><em>On the Fifth day of Christmas<em>

_My true love sent to me:_

_Five baked ponies_

_Four red roses_

_Three cute cats_

_Two tomatoes_

_And a snow globe full of bunnies_

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><p>Today will be the day when Lithuania confesses to Poland, when he finally voiced out the feelings he had been trying to hide for many many years. He couldn't hide around forever, and anyway, Hungary had told him it wouldn't go too badly, and she was usually right about these kind of things.<p>

"Come _on_, Liet. The cookies aren't going to make themselves, you know." A bowl was pushed towards him, along with a wooden spoon. "Mix the dough, 'kay?"

His hands moved mechanically without him realising, grabbing the spoon and mixing the cookie dough. He couldn't count how many times he had baked with Poland. He even had a special drawer just for cookie ingredients and tools for whenever the other nation came around.

Maybe he could make him a big pony cookie cake with his confession iced on top? Poland liked ponies a lot. But he didn't want to confess in _writing_. It wouldn't seem as real to him as saying it out loud.

Lithuania loved these baking sessions with the Pole. After a few times, he got the hang of mixing the ingredients together, and could focus on his lively companion instead of the mixture.

Poland always _insisted_ on wearing an apron, and honestly, Lithuania thought it was quite cute. The blond always seemed to get some of the dough or mixture onto his face somewhere, and he danced around while he pulled out ingredients from the drawers and poured them into measuring cups.

And afterwards, the kitchen would _always_ be in a huge mess, and Poland would be too busy staring into the oven to help clean up, and Lithuania would have to clean everything.

But he didn't mind. Not when he was spending time with Poland, watching the other nation smile and laugh.

"Hey, Liet, what shape do you wanna make them?" The blond frowned a little as he looked down at the pile of cookie cutters Lithuania had accumulated over the years. "Did you get new ones? I've never seen these before. Can we use them?"

He held up some shaped like ponies, and Lithuania agreed. He had recently bought them just for the other nation, anyway.

They rolled out the dough and spread a sheet of baking paper across the tray. Pressing the cutters down on the dough was quick and easy, and before he knew it, Lithuania was carrying the tray over to the oven. Once the cookies were in, he cleared his throat.

"Um… Poland?" Well, there was no going back now.

"Mhm?"

"I… I need to tell you something."

"Yeah?"

"I… I like–" He couldn't do it, he couldn't say it, Poland was watching him curiously but he _couldn't make the words come out right_… "I– Will you go out with me?"

Eyes wide, he gasped and immediately started apologising. "I'm sorry I didn't mean to say that, I mean, I did, but it wasn't supposed to come out like that, I–"

Poland didn't look disgusted, or amused, or even shocked.

"But, Liet, haven't we been, like, dating the whole time?"

…Wait, _what_?

"We… We were?"

"Yeah, of course." Poland gave him a look, as if it was obvious, then turned around when the oven turned off.

Okay, then.

Later on, they sat at the table together to eat the cookies, and Lithuania felt a warmth blossom from his chest and his heart skip a beat every time his eyes met Poland's.

"I really like you, Poland. I like you a lot." As soon as the words left his mouth, Lithuania felt his ears turn red, and prayed that the other nation hadn't heard him. But as soon as he heard his reply, he was glad he had voiced his thoughts out loud.

"Me too, Liet. I like you lots."


	6. The Sixth Day of Christmas (PruCan)

**Here's some PruCan! :)**

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><p><em>On the Sixth day of Christmas<em>

_My true love sent to me:_

_Six stacks of pancakes_

_Five baked ponies_

_Four red roses_

_Three cute cats_

_Two tomatoes_

_And a snow globe full of bunnies_

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><p>The first sign was the coldness. The bed was <em>never<em> cold when Prussia woke up. Canada was _always_ in his arms, radiating heat that lured in the barely-awake albino. So the lack of warmth made Prussia's eyes snap open.

The second sign was the emptiness. All he could hear was his own soft breathing and the rustle of blankets when he moved, and his legs, which were usually entwined with the other nation's, were twisting amongst the bed sheets. There was no second heartbeat, no no slight snores, no stray hair curl tickling his nose.

He yawned and looked around, eyes slowly blinking the sleep away. There was no one else in the bed he shared with Canada, no one pulling on their clothes or taking them out of the wardrobe, and the bathroom seemed like it was empty.

_What if…?_ Prussia nearly slapped himself. "No, don't think about that," he muttered. But his ever-present fear that he had tried to push to the back of his mind every day had slowly resurfaced. The fear of not being good enough for Canada because he was too loud, too obnoxious, too annoying, too lazy, not an actual nation anymore… His list of faults was endless.

Suddenly he heard a crash and a yelp, followed by a curse in what seemed like French. Sighing slightly in relief – so Canada _hadn't_ left him after all – he walked to the kitchen, where he saw his boyfriend wearing the red apron he bought him for his birthday, and what used to be a bowl but was now just cracked pieces of china on the floor.

"Birdie! Are you hurt? What happened?" Prussia rushed over to him, mindful of the smashed bowl on the floor, and checked him over. There was no blood, as far as he could see. Good.

"I was just making some pancakes for you," murmured Canada. As if on cue, Prussia's stomach growled.

"Great, you need help?" He smirked, knowing what the answer would be. The blond slapped his arm and rolled his eyes.

"You _know_ what happened last time, Prussia. Your cooking skills are almost as bad as England's."

"Okay, okay." He held up his hands in surrender, walking to the drawers where the plates and cutlery were. "I'll just set the table, 'kay?"

He was still loved. He was still appreciated. He was good enough for Canada, and no little fear from long ago would separate them.


	7. The Seventh Day of Christmas (SuFin)

**SuFin~**

**Like I said before, I'll be going away for four days, so I'll post the remaining drabbles when I get back. I've scheduled everything to be posted on my tumblr, though, and the link's in my profile, if you don't want to wait.**

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><p><em>On the Seventh day of Christmas<em>

_My true love gave to me:_

_Seven salmiakki_

_Six stacks of pancakes_

_Five baked ponies_

_Four red roses_

_Three cute cats_

_Two tomatoes_

_And a snow globe full of bunnies_

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><p>Finland sighed as he walked out of the candy store. It was the fifth one he had tried, and there just didn't seem to be <em>anywhere<em> selling salmiakki. He hadn't had the liquorice in _ages_, so he had hoped to buy some. Now he would have to order some online… But then he would _still _have to wait for it to get shipped to his house.

He dragged his feet to his apartment, hoping that Sweden had made dinner already. As he entered the apartment, a delicious aroma hit him, making him rush to the kitchen.

Sweden was stirring something in a pot and hadn't noticed him yet. Finland's eyes darted around the benches, trying to guess what he was making from what was left on the benches. His eyes fell to a small paper bag. Curious, he picked it up.

A note was attached to it. He immediately recognised the Swede's messy scrawl, and a smile stretched across his face as he read it.

_Finland,_

_I know you were looking for these so I bought you some._

_Sweden_

He looked inside the bag, immediately shouting "_Yes!_" as he recognised the little black candy. He turned around to thank Sweden, who had been watching him the whole time.

"Thank you Su-san! I haven't had these in _ages_, and I was looking for them just now but they weren't selling them _anywhere_! Where did you get them?" Finland squinted a little. "Su-san, are you _smiling_?"

"I saw them in the shops and got them for you." He didn't answer the last question.

"Aw, thank you!" Finland hugged the other nation, not noticing the pinkness creeping up on the taller man's face. His interest diverted back to the pot on the stove, and he walked over, peering inside. "What are you making? It smells really good!"

"Just some soup."

"It looks really good too!" He walked back to the Swede. "Thank you. For the salmiakki, and for everything else."

He smiled at him, happiness rushing through him when the usually stoic man smiled back at him.

"See, Su-san, you _can_ smile!"


	8. The Eighth Day of Christmas (GerIta)

**I'm back! I went all the way to Cape Reinga and 90 Mile Beach, and it was _amazing_. I even got to see some dolphins in the Bay of Islands! ****Happy belated new year, everyone! And thank you to everyone who has favourited and followed so far. I'm glad that you all like this! :)**

**GerIta.**

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><p><em>On the Eighth day of Christmas<em>

_My true love sent to me:_

_Eight plates of pasta_

_Seven salmiakki_

_Six stacks of pancakes_

_Five baked ponies_

_Four red roses_

_Three cute cats_

_Two tomatoes_

_And a snow globe full of bunnies_

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><p>Germany sighed. Where had Italy gone to <em>again<em>? He was _always_ chasing after the crazy Italian, and he wished that he would grow up sometime soon and take responsibility of himself for once.

But then it wouldn't be the same. Italy's irresponsibility and airheadedness was part of who he was, and Germany would never want him to change.

"Ve~ Germany, Germany!" A bundle of Italian crashed into him, clinging onto him in a huge hug. "Germany, I made something for you!"

"…What is it?" He was cautious. The last time Italy had made something for him, he had gotten paint _everywhere_, and it had taken _ages_ for him to clean it all off.

"Come, I'll show you!" He dragged him into the dining room where a huge silver platter took up most of the space on the table.

Germany already knew what was on that plate. Of _course_, what else did he expect? But when Italy lifted the lid and presented his masterpiece to him, he was still surprised.

The pasta was placed impeccably on the dish, not a single strand out of place. The sauce was a deep red colour, and arranged in a heart shape. And the cheese on top spelt out _Ti amo_.

Germany was speechless.

"_Ti amo_, Germany." He looked at Italy who was smiling back at him.

"I–I…" The words wouldn't come out no matter how much he tried, and even when he rearranged them in his head, they still didn't seem to make sense.

"Germany? Why are you crying? Do you… Do you not like my present?"

He almost laughed at the worried expression on the Italian's face. Reaching up with his fingers, he touched his cheek, and to his surprise, found it wet. He didn't even realise he had been crying.

"No, Italy, anything but that. I love your present," he hesitated, "I love you."

The smile that suddenly appeared on Italy's face nearly blinded him.

"_Ich liebe Dich_, Italy. _Ich liebe Dich_."


	9. The Ninth Day of Christmas (HongIce)

**HongIce.**

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><p><em>On the Ninth day of Christmas<em>

_My true love sent to me:_

_Nine talking puffins_

_Eight plates of pasta_

_Seven salmiakki_

_Six stacks of pancakes_

_Five baked ponies_

_Four red roses_

_Three cute cats_

_Two tomatoes_

_And a snow globe full of bunnies_

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><p>"No."<p>

"Come onnn, Ice, it's been _ages_ since we last went."

"Yeah, and last time all we did was look at the monkeys and the tigers. And one of the monkeys threw a stick at me. I'm not going." Iceland folded his arms. He was _not_ going back to the zoo, not after what happened last time. And they didn't even get to go see the animals _he_ wanted to see.

"You have to admit, that _was_ funny." Iceland raised an eyebrow. "Come on, I'll let you pick which animals we'll go to see this time!"

"…Only if we get to see the puffins."

"Deal." Hong Kong's eyes were sparkling, and even though he was trying to seem cool and collected, Iceland could tell that he was excited and could hardly sit still. He inwardly cursed his annoying friend and his childishness, but he knew that if he didn't agree, he would just keep on pestering him about it until he finally said yes.

They arrived at the zoo early in the morning to escape the crowds, but there were already a few families around. After buying the tickets – Iceland made Hong Kong pay for his ticket too, since he dragged him here – they walked in, checking the map and signs to see where all the different animals were.

The zoo had dumped the puffins and penguins in one giant enclosure, even though in the wild they lived on opposite sides of the world. At least there was some sort of wall separating the two birds, and they weren't _completely _together.

The puffins weren't really doing anything, though, so after watching the black and white birds just sit there, Iceland decided to move on.

The day was spent, once again, at the tiger and monkey enclosures.

As they walked out of the zoo, Hong Kong told him to wait outside in the carpark, he needed to use the bathroom. Iceland sighed and agreed, and watched people and cars go past until he could hear approaching footsteps.

He turned around, expecting Hong Kong to sling an arm around his shoulder and drag him to the bus stop, like he usually did, but instead, the Asian nation seemed to be holding something behind his back.

"What's that?" He pointed to the object, which wasn't hidden very well. A black tip was peeking out from one side and red was poking out from the other. Was that a… Soft toy?

Before he could say anything more, Hong Kong held out the object. In his hands was a life-sized puffin soft toy, and it actually looked quite realistic. Iceland raised an eyebrow.

"Here, I got you this. I know you like puffins, and I saw it in the gift shop on my way back from the bathroom, so…" He scratched his head.

Iceland knew he was lying, though. He definitely wouldn't have had enough time to go to the bathroom _and _the gift shop, and they had passed through the gift shop when they first arrived. And Hong Kong always scratched his head when he was lying or flustered or uncomfortable.

"You didn't have to…" He gently held the plushie, as if it would break if he squeezed it too hard.

"Geez, Ice, you could've at least thanked me. It's what people generally do when they receive gifts."

Iceland rolled his eyes, but still muttered, "Thanks."

He held the puffin the whole time until they got home, then put it on his bed when Hong Kong was in the bathroom (again). Hopefully, he wouldn't see it, or Iceland would have to endure at _least_ a couple of months' worth of teasing.


	10. The Tenth Day of Christmas (AusHun)

**AusHun~ I think the piece Austria plays would be a mixture of the ****_Nocturne pour Tamaki_**** from Ouran High School Host Club and ****_Lieb' Schwesterlein (Dear Little Sister)_**** by Robert Fuchs.**

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><p><em>On the Tenth day of Christmas<em>

_My true love sent to me:_

_Ten piano notes_

_Nine talking puffins_

_Eight plates of pasta_

_Seven salmiakki_

_Six stacks of pancakes_

_Five baked ponies_

_Four red roses_

_Three cute cats_

_Two tomatoes_

_And a snow globe full of bunnies_

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><p>A few notes from the piano floated through the air, followed by silence and a rough scratching noise. Hungary smiled to herself. Austria was in one of his composing moods again.<p>

She loved watching Austria play the piano – his long, slender fingers dancing across the black and white keys, pressing down softly, firmly, gently, angrily; his expression matching the mood of the piece; the one curl on his head bobbing up and down in the rhythm of the music.

But she loved hearing the beautiful melodies he played even more. The sad, depressing pieces, the dark, angry pieces, the bright, happy pieces – she loved them all.

Finally, after more broken phrases and furious scribbling, Austria poked his head out of his music room (/study/where he seemed to be all the time), hair dishevelled and glasses slightly crooked, and called her over.

"Hungary, I just finished composing a new piece. Would you like to hear it?" As usual, the Austrian was as polite and formal as ever, even after living together for so many years.

"Of course," she replied, before following him into the room. But instead of sitting down at the piano and starting to play, like he usually did, Austria cleared his throat.

"This piece is called _Mein Liebling Ungarn_. I hope you enjoy it." He gave a stiff little bow before sitting down.

After living with Austria for so long, and just being a nation and having to deal with all the international affairs, Hungary's mind easily translated the German. _My Darling Hungary_, the piece was called. She smiled again.

The piece was gentle and loving, the melody dancing through the air as the harmony threaded itself amongst the notes. Hungary felt something wet slide down her cheeks, and she hastily wiped her eyes. She hadn't realised she had been crying.

The piece was beautiful.

When it finally finished with a gentle chord and a note in the bass, Austria walked nervously to where Hungary had been sitting.

"How was it?" he asked. Hungary leaned in, slotting their lips together, and she marvelled at the fact that every time they did this, she still got butterflies in her stomach, and they never seemed to go away.

When they pulled apart, she whispered, "It was perfect."


	11. The Eleventh Day of Christmas (DenNor)

**DenNor. These drabbles aren't linked together in any way at all so in the SuFin one before, Sweden and Finland live together in an apartment, but in this one, the Nordics all live together in a house.**

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><p><em>On the Eleventh day of Christmas<em>

_My true love sent to me:_

_Eleven crossed hair clips_

_Ten piano notes_

_Nine talking puffins_

_Eight plates of pasta_

_Seven salmiakki_

_Six stacks of pancakes_

_Five baked ponies_

_Four red roses_

_Three cute cats_

_Two tomatoes_

_And a snow globe full of bunnies_

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><p>As Denmark stared down at the broken hair clip – snapped cleanly in two! – all he could think was, <em>well, fuck<em>.

"You've done it now, Den." Iceland's comment made him wince, and Sweden and Finland agreeing with him just added salt into the wound. "Norway's not going to be happy when he finds out about this."

And he could imagine the Norwegian glaring at him angrily, but speaking in a scary, calm voice… He gulped. He was glad said nation had gone grocery shopping at the moment.

The only solution he could think of was to buy a new clip and replace the old one, preferably without Norway noticing. Or he could ask Sweden to fix it for him… It _was _wooden, he could just glue it together, right? But one look at the Swede let him know that he had no choice but to buy a replacement.

"I'll go buy a new one now, before Norge comes back," Denmark announced. "Do you know where to buy hair clips from…?" He was specifically asking Finland and Iceland, because he _knew _they sometimes liked to also wear hair clips, even if they always denied it, but they just shrugged.

"Just walk around the mall and if you're really desperate, just ask around. I'm sure you'll find something somewhere." Damn that Finland and how relaxed he was. It wasn't _him_ who would be slaughtered tonight if this went wrong.

"Fine, I'm going now." He walked out the door into the snow, jogging the few blocks to the mall to keep warm. Being a country had quite a few perks, like getting to live in a house only a twenty-minute walk, fifteen if he's fast, to convenient shops.

He first tried a jewellery store, because he honestly had no idea what to do. He described the clip to the owner, who showed him some hair clips made out of gold and silver and whatever other precious metals they sold there.

It was all too fancy, too shiny, too golden, too silver, and it was the same with all the other shops he tried. Finally, he stopped in front of an antique shop.

_Well, no harm in trying_, he told himself, even though that was what he had been telling himself before going into all the shops this afternoon. A bell ringed when he pushed open the door, and when he stepped in, he was instantly reminded of those stereotypical dusty old shops where magic and shit happened in the movies.

And the creepy old guy behind the counter also looked like those old-guys-who-were-actually-goblins-or-wizards-or-whatever.

"Do you have any hair clips? In a cross shape, about this big." Denmark approached the counter, and to be honest, he was really desperate by now. He'd take any cross-shaped hair clip, and if it was the wrong colour, he would just paint it or something. Norway would be getting home soon, so he had to hurry, anyway.

"I have this one." The old man held up a box, and inside was a perfect replica of the original hair clip Norway always wore around.

He could have just gone into this shop first instead of wasting so much time before.

"Great, I'll take it." He handed the man the money then took the box and ran out the door.

Now all he had to do was get back before Norway.

He made it _just _in time. He only just burst through the door and sat down when the Norwegian walked through the doorway.

"Why was the door open?" He narrowed his eyes at Denmark, who tried his best at looking innocent.

"I, uh… I was hot?"

"It's the fucking middle of winter, you moron."

Oh well. At least he hadn't noticed the hair clip yet.

"Where's my hair clip? I put it here before I left. Denmark, if you moved it, I swear to God…"

Or not.

Denmark hoped he would survive Norway's wrath if he ever found out he broke it.

He probably wouldn't.


	12. The Twelfth Day of Christmas (PruAus)

**The final drabble in this series! Thanks to everyone who has read this, and thanks especially to those who have reviewed, followed and favourited. It was fun writing all of this! :)**

**The last drabble is PruAus.**

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><p><em>On the Twelfth day of Christmas<em>

_My true love sent to me:_

_Twelve baby chickens_

_Eleven crossed hair clips_

_Ten piano notes_

_Nine talking puffins_

_Eight plates of pasta_

_Seven salmiakki_

_Six stacks of pancakes_

_Five baked ponies_

_Four red roses_

_Three cute cats_

_ Two tomatoes_

_And a snow globe full of bunnies_

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><p>"Hey, Austriaaaa~" Red eyes blinked in front of him. He sighed and put down the cup of tea he was drinking.<p>

"What is it?" Austria really wished his boyfriend wouldn't interrupt him in the middle of him actually _relaxing_ for once.

"C'mere, I have something to show you." Sighing, (again), he followed Prussia to the living room, where a box was sitting on the coffee table. And… Was that _cheeping_ coming out from there?

"So, y'know how I always thought Gilbird was a guy? Well, apparently she's not."

Austria looked back at the box. _Oh_. He could see something fluffy and yellow inside, and he realised they were baby chickens. _OH_.

"Now I have some chicks and I don't trust anyone else to look after them, except maybe West or Japan, so I'm thinking about keeping them and raising them? If that's okay with you?" He looked at the Austrian uncertainly, and he was already imagining all the extra feathers and other dirty things he would rather not think about that would be lying around the apartment and the extra bird food he would have to buy (the expensive kind, since Prussia would only feed his pet the _best_) and the extra noise and what if he was walking around and accidentally stood on one of them?

But Prussia was persistent, and he _really really_ wanted to keep the birds – Austria could tell by the way he stuck out his bottom lip and tried to make his eyes bigger and cuter – so he gave in and muttered, "Fine." He would have bothered him until he said yes, anyway.

"Thank you so much! I'll do the dishes every day and I'll clean up after them and you won't regret this!"

He tried not to smile at how the albino lit up after he agreed, and he was already starting to regret his decision when he got a closer look at the chicks. They were trying to climb out of the box, and he winced when one particularly fat chick stood on another's head while attempting to scale the cardboard walls.

"Really, thank you." Prussia leaned in and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. "It means a lot to me, y'know."

He hummed in response and laid his head on his boyfriend's shoulder. Maybe keeping the chicks wouldn't be as bad as he thought.


End file.
